Apples Are For The Poor
by Peace and Cream
Summary: What is becoming a long story, in which Race grows up and out of Newsiehood, and prepares to face the realworld. Later SpRace


**Apples are for the Poor" Chapter One - Existentialism**

I do not own Newsies. That need to be established. Okay, onto other things.

I've had this written for a while, and beforeI post the other chapters I'd like to see the response it gets. So even if it's only a word or two, drop a review! Thanks

_"On the Avenue, Fifth Avenue, the photographers will snap us and you'll find that you're in the rotogravure."_

There was more noise this morning than there usually was. I could tell even though I was face down in my pillow with the blankets drawn up over my head. After years of sleeping at the lodging house, you could tell when there was more excitement then usual. I was going to get up and see what it was about…but my bed was so warm and outside was still crisp and chill. I was just beginning to drop back off to sleep when I heard Kid _clunk_ outta bed. So I figured I'd better get up and see what the racket was all about.

Blink gettin' up was my alarm in the mornings. I liked sleepin' in, but when he got up, I knew I had to get up, or there'd be no hot water left. So I slowly peeked my head out from the covers. It was chilly. Mush and Itey, and a couple of other boys liked the windows open when they slept, so the rest of us was forced to suffer getting up to cold wooden floors in the morning. But this morning, it didn't seem to have left anybody still under the covers. Everyone was moving around…

"Mornin' Race!" Blink's face popped up on the side of my bunk. The first thought on my mind was that he needed a haircut. His blond hair looked more than a little scraggly, and his tattered eye patch seemed to go right along with it. He grinned impishly at me, and I retreated back into the safety of my pillow. A finger poked me in the side. "Get up! Get up! Don't you know what today is?"

I sat up. "Sunday?" I slurred, after thinking it over for a moment. Yes, it had to be Sunday...or wait, was it Saturday…or-?

He laughed, and punched me lightly. "Not just Sunday, but Easter!" I looked at him blankly, not understanding the significance of his statement (because not one of us was even remotely religious). "The Parade?" he offered, as if it were the most obvious thing ever.

It hit me and I whooped and jumped out of bed. The Easter parade was practically the next best thing to Christmas. After we sold the morning edition, we all went down to see it. There were people all dressed up in the weirdest hats, and the most overstated clothes. But that's not why we loved it. We loved it because of how distracted everyone became, and how easy it was to swipe food off of carts. How easy it was for people to drop money. How the men were preoccupied with the women, they didn't finish their beers, but threw them away anyway. Afterwards, we gathered everything up and had the biggest poker game of the year. (Excepting for on Christmas that is.) And I loved poker. I loved cards in general, but poker was my favorite. It gave me such a rush. Holding the worn cards, having a hundred possible moves fly in and out of my head and the satisfaction of knowing I've got them all beat.

So obviously, the winnings of the Easter parade were most satisfactory, being more then a stick of gum, a half burnt cigar and your occasional nickel. And I liked to share those things with the other Newsies too. Because I knew how wonderful a feeling it was to have a couple extra cigarettes in your pocket, or get a swig of good beer on a windy day.

Plus, over the course of the year, between loosing at the track, and playing bad hands, I borrowed a good amount of money from many of my friends. But now was the time to forget about that!

I splashed water on my face, and recoiled at how cold it was! So I had been too late to get even a drop of warm water. Someone shoved me from behind, and I wiped my eyes on my arm. Blinking twice, I saw Jack standing there with a towel, grinning, like usual. He was always smiling these days and he seemed a lot more content with life. It showed in his appearance. Although I think David probably had something to do with his more clean appearance. I reached out for the towel, but Jack held it up high, and then dropped it over my head so I couldn't see him scamper away. But just I smiled to myself. Yes...today was going to be fun…I couldn't wait to be done selling. And with the parade going on, we'd be making a lot of money. Which meant a round of beers, and a good game of poker later in the evening. Hastily, I finished dressing and followed Mush out the door.

The air hit me and it was cool and damp, almost like before a rainstorm. The sun was barely up, but already I could tell it would be the perfect day for a parade. Mush began talking to all of us about this dream he had and I zoned out. The perfect day…soon I'd have money, and good food. I just couldn't wait. I began thinking about the coming summer, and swimming and the docks, and before I knew it I'd just bought seventy-five papes, and Mush and I were off.

Him and me usually sold together on weekends. It was a time that we caught up for the past week. And we treated today like a typical Sunday, and set off the long way to 5th street.

"So what's new, Mushy?" I asked casually. He seemed more chipper than usual and I was prepared to hear a long story about some little thing or another that Blink had done. That was a long story in itself. Around last autumn, Mush had suddenly stopped talking, which was strange for him, because normally he was always bubbly, and talkative, his short brown curls bouncing with his laughs. But it all stopped. He and I had been close, even then, and naturally, it worried me, as well as some of the other boys. We tried time after time to talk to him, and find out what was bugging him. But he never gave way. This went on and on until about three days before Christmas Eve. I remember it so clearly…

Flashback

I was standing out in the alley, next to the Lodging House, smoking the last El Ray that I had gotten for Christmas last year. I was thinking about cigars, and Cuba, and what it would be like to go there, when all of a sudden, Mush is standing in front of me. I gave a nod, and we both sat down. As much as I wanted to ask him what was going on, I decided it would be better to let him start, and he did just that.

"Race, I gotta talk ta you. Somethin's been botherin' me lately." He looked at me, as if I held the answer.

"You're gonna have to tell me a little more than that for me to help you, Mush"

"I know…it's just…well, I don't know. I've been thinking a lot about myself, and I realized something that worries me. Somethin' about… about…" he trailed off and looked down.

"It's okay, go on." I was concerned, to say the least. And when he looked up he had a wild look in his eyes.

"You can't tell anybody, Racetrack! You gotta swear on your life! Because if you tell anybody what I'm about to tell you, I swear I'll hunt you down and-" I waved my hand and cut him off.

"Mushy, you have my word. And may I be trampled by a stampede of the best Thoroughbreds if I break it." That got a smile out of him. We spit and shook. "Now, go on, what been worrin' ya?" The smile disappeared from his face.

"It's just that, well, I've been havin' these strange thoughts lately. I've been thinkin' about someone in a way that I shouldn't be… And I don't know what to do about it, 'cause, cause I …" He choked on his words, and I put a hand on his shoulder.

"You're just going to have to tell me. Because I'm not getting it." I felt bad for forcing him into saying this. But it had to be finished now that it was started. There was a long pause.

"Blink," he whispered. "It's Blink." Before I could ask 'What about Blink?' he continued. "I think about him in ways I shouldn't…I think about him in ways that are _wrong_." He paused "And please Race, don't be disgusted by me. I can't help it. I thought I could trust you, outta anybody else, so please-"

"Mush…I'm not disgusted with you. I don't really know what to think, but certainly not that!" It was true. I wasn't expecting to hear that. But really, it didn't scare me or sicken me. To be honest, I didn't know what to think…

"It doesn't?" Poor Mush, he looked so worried. So I smiled at him.

"Of course not. And even if it did, we're friends, Mushy. Now, I'm getting chilly, let's go in." We stood up, and Mush looked normal again. Happy, and almost carefree... and I realized something. I was afraid for him. I was afraid he'd get hurt. "Mush," I called after him, "You'd better not tell anyone else, 'cause some of the boys, well, they ain't like me…" He nodded, and I felt bad for having to say it. But I knew I had to. I didn't want him to get hurt. I didn't want anyone to find out, because I really, I was scared for myself too. Although I didn't know why.

Mush grinned and launched into an elaborate story about Blink, the barbershop, washcloths and wrestling. I could tell how happy he was, and I told him so. We walked on for a bit more, then out of nowhere Mush asked,

"So, Race, is Spot coming with all us to the parade?" I stopped, and I got a cold feeling in my stomach.

"Spot? Why do you ask? I don't keep track of him."

Mush laughed. "I was just wonderin'. You two seem pretty close, is all."

I scowled and pushed him lightly towards a hot dog stand. He just laughed again, and I realized Mush was almost as observant as I was. But I still wouldn't give in. So we continued our walk in silence. That is, until Mush decided to bring it up again.

"Ya know, Race, you never really answered my question."

Which caused me to pretend not to know what he meant, which caused him to grin insanely, which proceeded to set me off laughing. Which set him off laughing too. So it put me back in a good mood and Mush a step ahead of me in figuring things out. But I didn't know that yet.

Once we got to 5th street, selling was easy and within an hour and a half went to go meet up with Blink, Jack, and David on the corner of 5th and 8th to go get something to eat.

"Hey Race, Hey Mush!" Jack waved from across the street with his usual energy, and we crossed over where he was. Blink was standing nearby, obviously flirting with a nearby brunette and I could feel Mush stiffen a little, trying to make himself immune to Blink's "excursions". But he smiled and waved anyway, and I was proud of him.

"Where we headed to eat, Jack?" I asked, feeling a bit anxious to get moving and fill my stomach. My stomach was far beyond the growling and hunger pains. It felt large and hollow and I never seemed to be able to eat enough. All us Newsies shared the same feelings, when it came to hunger.

"Just waiting for Davey and Les to catch up with me," Jack smirked and gestured vaguely to his left where I assumed David was coming from. We turned in that direction, and I noticed Jack's bandanna had been washed and pressed. I was going to comment when I heard David's worried voice.

"Jack? Jack?" We turned around to the right and saw David anxiously looking for Jack's face in the crowd. Their eyes met and David's worry melted into a relived smile. "I've been looking all over for you!"

"Yeah, sorry, Davey" Jack responded automatically.

"Guess who I ran into?" David sounded excited, and pointed up the street a bit. We all craned our necks, and I saw Denton headed our way, lugging a huge tripod behind him. I broke out into a smile and Les ran up and hugged me, and then Jack. Jack laughed, and threw Les up onto his shoulder, making him taller than the rest of the world. It looked familiar, and suddenly a thousand images of the strike flooded unbidden into my mind. I felt a mixture of emotion, and suddenly felt very swept away in the crowds I was usually so at home in.

Blink returned from his girl friend and the seven of us headed up 8th street to Santo's. Usually, we would have gone to Tibby's but this place was on Mush's normal route and after arguing briefly with Jack (and with the help of David's natural persuasion) we decided to come here today.

I had been there before. The owner called me Filippio, because I talked about the races with him whenever I went there. Santo was a typical Italian, and loved to talk, mostly about food, and his wife. He wore his hair cropped very short, and he walked with a bit more effort than most. And he always wore a bowler hat. Even when cooking. It was a strange habit, but then again, there were stranger things…

We pushed our way through the crowd, and I got twisted around. I grew a bit irritated, but then, something caught my eye, and my stomach was filled with the feeling of ice water again. He was staring straight at me, from the other side of the street, and when my eyes locked onto his, he leered at me. It was almost as if he was provoking me on purpose. I couldn't refuse a challenge. Not from him…I turned to Mush.

"Mush, I'm gonna catch up with you later," I whispered, separating him briefly from the rest of the group. "There's…something I need to go do."

He simply nodded. No questions asked. He knew, and he let me go, giving me a vague smile as I pushed my way through the imposing crowd.

I reached the other side moments later, but the place he had been was now vacant. I wondered briefly if I had imagined him being there. I felt a little bit disappointed, and lonely. Craning my neck, I tried to see if Mush just might be waiting, but he and the rest were out of sight. I kept looking around, expecting him to be playing a trick on me. But nothing. No light punch in the shoulder, or tap on the back. I must have been imagining it. But why him? After waiting a few moments more, I sighed and began walking down towards the piers.

Thanks for reading! Review, if you please.


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